Jitterbug
by gethsemane342
Summary: She would be a wonderful dancer, if only she could get rid of that jitterbug. Oneshot.


**_Disclaimer: I do not own _Frozen**

_**Rating:**_**for mention of death**

**A/n:** I'm afraid my knowledge of dancing is low and most of the information I have is from google/youtubing videos - feel free to let me know if I've gone wrong somewhere with anything I mention. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

Jitterbug

**I. Jazz**

As soon as Elsa can walk without falling, she has dance lessons.

She learns basic movements. She learns different styles. By six, she can perform a few traditional dances very well.

When Anna learns to walk, she has some lessons with Elsa. There is no doubt who is the better dancer – had Elsa been the younger, she would have caught up to Anna very quickly – but there is something about Anna's style that Elsa adores. Elsa follows the instructions to the letter but Anna sometimes improvises. Elsa's movements are precise and elegant whereas Anna is jerky but energetic. One looks at Elsa and sees art; one looks at Anna and sees fun.

It infuriates the tutor, of course, because Anna can't see where she's going wrong. Whenever she forgets the steps, she throws in her own style instead. She has ingenious moves, which isolate parts of the body, that she throws in, but her attempts to perform the _actual_ dance remain as jerky as ever.

Elsa begins to copy her. She turns Anna's odd movements into her smooth, artistic dance, loving the quick steps her feet make or the dramatic high kicks coupled with her bent back. The tutor is not mollified because whatever this style of dance is, it's not one known in Arendelle, so Elsa encourages Anna to practice after class instead. Together, they create a new form of dance incorporating elements of many others because Anna can't tell the difference between them. Anna comes up with the moves and Elsa performs the trickier aspects. It has no name and no meaning but it's fun.

They perform it for their parents the day before the accident but Anna loses her balance at the end and tumbles into Elsa. In the way that only Anna can manage, she turns the tumble into a hug and the dance ends with their parents clapping while Elsa and Anna embrace, giggling madly.

After the accident, her father announces that only Anna will have lessons. It hurts more than Elsa can ever say but she tries to tell herself that if she controls her powers, the lessons will return. That's all she has to do.

**II. Hip-Hop/Freestyle**

They see her sitting at the window. It has been a month and Elsa's face has not lost the haunted look she wore after they found her screaming in the ballroom. When she faces them, the corners of her mouth tug downwards. On her desk is a small, misshapen ice sculpture.

"I can't get it right anymore," Elsa says softly. "I used to be able to make it look like … things."

A smile doesn't tug at her father's lips and her mother doesn't make a witty comment. Instead, they glance from her to the sculpture.

"You know you're not supposed to practice this," the king says but his voice holds no anger.

"I know, Papa. But I'm bored."

She isn't supposed to say that either. A princess never complains.

Her father tugs his moustache thoughtfully. "How about a new hobby? Painting?" Elsa wrinkles her nose. "Writing?"

"Papa, I spend all day reading and writing."

"Music?" suggests her mother. "A tutor could give you some starting points and you could continue in your spare time?"

In her mind's eye, she hears scales repeating and classical, boring melodies, surrounded by white walls and silence. She bites back a sigh as she says, "Yes, Mama."

Her parents nod, satisfied, and leave. Elsa slumps back into her chair and absent-mindedly shapes an ice flute, except the mouth piece is jagged and the end curves for some reason. She lays it on her desk, knowing full well that if her parents catch her, she will be in trouble.

She has the first lesson. After just fifteen minutes, the tutor says, "You don't want to do this, do you?"

Elsa glances away. "I do. I'd love to learn music."

He snorts. "You don't _learn_ music. You feel it."

Elsa glances up but then frowns. "Then I can't do it."

"Nonsense, everyone can do it."

"A princess must never feel too much."

"You feel music in your soul, not your emotions. You use that feeling to help you sort out your own feelings. You can even use it as a way of control. The same can be said of dancing – I understand you're quite the proficient dancer."

She doesn't tell him that she's not allowed to dance now. She does, however, start to pay more attention. To her surprise, she enjoys the lessons but, more than that, the tunes stay with her. In her room, she finds her feet tapping or her hands beating against a table in a steady rhythm. Then she waves her arms, she slides across the floor, and it's _wonderful_. Her movements become more adventurous, spurred by the music she carries with her. Sometimes, she makes her shapes and sculptures when she moves like this and they come out just right.

When she walks down the corridors, she walks in time. She snaps her fingers in empty rooms. She does quick steps and pirouettes when no one is looking. On one occasion, she breaks her bed by jumping from it. She actually has to re-destroy it with ice so that her parents don't realise what she's doing.

But one day, Anna spots her nodding her head as she taps on her glass at dinner and starts to bob along. Elsa stops but it's too late. Her parents are looking at them.

"Girls," her mother says, "stop messing around." She glances at Elsa. "You're supposed to set an example to your sister, Elsa."

Anna looks as confused as she feels. They were only … dancing.

"Sorry, Mama," Elsa mumbles. She returns to her room but her irritation is too much and she covers her desk with snow. Her parents catch her. She apologises and they remind her of the need to keep control.

"Be still," her mother suggests. "None of this tapping or nodding. Whenever you feel as though you're losing control, take a breath and count to ten. Imagine you're a cool lake with no ripples on the surface."

"But-"

"The key is to stay calm. Think everything through – don't act on impulse. All of this moving around will make you restless."

And that's that. She can't dance and probably can't even learn music. She can see why. Music made her dance. And what are her movements if not involuntary actions, done on impulse? And what is impulse if not a loss of control?

She keeps the music with her but she rarely practices. Instead, she makes herself read and write and study. No more experimenting. No more impulses. No more dancing.

**III. Folk Dance**

Even though she still improvises and still tumbles, Anna loves to dance. She no longer dances with Elsa, of course, but she throws herself into her lessons and the occasional performance wholeheartedly. Sometimes, Elsa watches with her parents and she makes sure to clap whenever Anna throws in her own moves or forgets the proper steps.

At dinner after one such performance, Queen Idun asks Anna what she loves about the dancing, noting that she shows distaste for the more traditional forms.

"I do like them," Anna says and Elsa doesn't smile but she wants to because Anna likes _everything_, "but they're kinda boring. You've got to do everything perfect otherwise instead of showing a swan dying, everyone thinks a snowbat killed Arendelle."

Elsa snorts into her drink but luckily no one notices.

"To be honest, I never get any of that from dancing," the king says. This is what she likes – the only thing she likes – about family meals. The way they somehow fit together; their in-jokes; their acceptance of her even when she can't speak. "I usually think the dancer's trying to swat a fly. Ow." He rubs his head and turns to his wife. "It's true. The nice thing about being the king is that I was allowed to stop taking dance lessons."

Perhaps the nice thing about being queen will be that Elsa will be able to dance whenever she wants.

Anna giggles. "But the Arendelle dances are more fun. I was thinking, it's the summer festival soon. Could I maybe please go have a look?"

"I don't think so, dear," the king says. "You're not old enough to give the opening yet."

"I don't mean _that_, Papa. I wanna take part – it'd be good for my education, 'cause I'd learn more about people and, uh, learn to dance, and, uh, it'd be good for people 'cause I'd buy stuff and, I mean, nothing _dangerous_, not after last time but-"

"No, Anna. Maybe when you're older."

"But-"

"I said _no_."

Anna stands up, face flushed. "I don't get it. Why're we never allowed to _go_ anywhere?"

"Because you're the princess. Elsa is the heir and you're next in line. It's dangerous out there."

No amount of protestations from Anna can dissuade her father. Although Anna eventually storms away to her room, Elsa does not miss the look on her face. It might have been just under seven years since the accident but that look was the look of a little girl determined to sneak chocolate cake out of the kitchen whether Elsa offered her help or not.

Elsa doesn't say anything because it might be dangerous out there but, privately, she thinks it's more dangerous in _here_.

Days go by and the festival draws closer. Festivals only take place in the city now. The days of festivals in the palace grounds are gone, ushered on their way by carefully maintained gates. In this sense, she shares Anna's frustration. Elsa wouldn't have been allowed to attend were they in the grounds but she could have watched. Some days, it feels as though her only pleasure is looking at life outside her window. Now, she watches Anna walk the grounds almost obsessively, occasionally stopping to talk to a soldier or inspect a wall or gate. It's mystifying.

They have etiquette classes together and after the lesson, the day before the festival, Elsa hears herself say, "Why are you inspecting the walls?"

"I'm not, I'm-" Anna blinks. "How d'you know I'm doing that? Are you spying on me? Come on, that's really creepy, that's-" Another blink. "Wait, you're talking to me?"

Frost coats the soles of her feet.

If Anna had raised a hammer and swung it at Elsa, it would not have hurt as much as that sentence.

"I look out occasionally, you know," she says, her voice perfectly nuanced between amusement and irritation. That will direct Anna the best. "And every time I do, you're looking at the walls. You can't be crazy enough yet that they entertain you?"

"I dunno, I've started talking to the pictures on the walls."

She's already told Elsa that, in one of her attempts to get Elsa to play with her. Perhaps Anna assumes Elsa wasn't listening.

"And your new hobby is … walls?"

Anna shrugs but a smile tugs at her lips and she keeps stealing glances at Elsa as she tries to look ahead. "Walls are great. They're good at keeping things out. And in. And, you know, standing there. I was wondering if I could dig under one with a spoon. To see if I could, not to escape, if I was gonna escape – not that I'm _planning_ on escaping – I'd go through … wait, what?"

Elsa fixes her with a hard look. So that's Anna's plan – run away and see the festival. She could stop it. Anna still has enough hero worship left in her that if Elsa told her it was a bad idea, she'd agree. For all that they're separate, Elsa can still call Anna's moves.

"Why do you want to go to the festival, Anna?"

"Loads of reasons. Don't you ever get bored here? And there are people out there and I wanna meet them and maybe make some more friends. And I was serious about the dances. We learn all the posh traditional dances but there are the big dances they have sometimes. With loads of people – just for fun. I heard Kai talking about it. I wanna try."

People. Freedom. Fun. Dancing. Anna's twelve – she shouldn't be cooped up in a castle. She should be outside, making friends with girls her age, or getting into accidents or seeing more of Arendelle. But she isn't. And that's Elsa's fault.

They reach the doors. Elsa hesitates before saying goodbye and heading to her room.

The next day, Elsa wakes up early, just in time to spot Anna dash through the gates. She smiles and turns to her books. Absent-mindedly, she creates a hunched figure dancing one of the Arendelle folk dances, one foot out of proportion to the other, and sits it next to her.

Anna is retrieved just three hours later, yelling at their father that she wants to leave for good and attempting to bribe the soldiers. Elsa does not emerge from her room to see the commotion. She waits. True to form, Anna flops outside her door the next day and complains that first she got lost on the way to the festival and then she was caught because her father spotted her trying the first dance of the festival. He has grounded her and told her she will not leave the grounds until she is twenty-one.

Elsa sits with her back to the door, feeling horribly powerless. Even this one small thing that she gave her sister wasn't enough. Anna never got her dance.

"I just don't understand," Anna is saying, "why do I have to learn to dance and stuff if I'm never gonna meet people? Isn't that what it's all _for_?"

Silence from Elsa.

"Oh, never mind," Anna says to the door. "It's not like you care. You never wanna meet people anyway."

If Anna weren't in such a rotten mood, she would never have said it. Elsa knows that. She also knows that Anna is leaving because she hasn't gotten a reaction from Elsa. But it hurts anyway because it's Elsa's fault that all of this is happening to Anna.

Shortly afterwards, Elsa freezes her room and her parents run in. They don't even move to hold her – they haven't hugged her since she was twelve and she begged them not to touch her – and the looks on their faces are a mixture of worry and irritation that she has, once again, lost control. Her heart clenches just a little and their words of reassurance seem to slide off her skin.

Anna never tries to attend a festival again but Elsa feels slightly better because she's sure their parents are beginning to view her as a burden and if Anna has lost her dance and faith because of Elsa then it's only right that Elsa loses her parents' love.

**IV. Salsa**

She first realises the deficiency in the plan when she attends upon the dignitaries from the southern lands. Not the Southern Isles – much further south than that. It's a princess and her husband who are travelling and decided to meet the Arendelle monarchy. Dignitaries are rarely received these days and never in the palace. Elsa rarely attends either but her father thought it important.

"We've cut down on meetings," he tells her, "but we do still have to do other countries the courtesy _of_ meeting."

So she curtsies politely to Princess Anita and Prince Bernardo before sitting at the back of the room by her mother and father. She wishes Anna could be there as well because Anna would turn it into a joke. Probably.

During the discussions and dinner, she notices certain things about the royal couple. Certain topics are only discussed by one or the other of them – but when the person whose topic it isn't speaks, that makes that sentence all the more important. They trade looks and the way they move around each other gives her the feeling of something carefully choreographed.

Then she realises that her parents are doing something similar. Unlike Princess Anita and Prince Bernardo – who, if you didn't know, you would be unable to tell which one is the consort and which is born royalty – King Agdar leads nearly every discussion. Yet Queen Idun will speak occasionally and her words are usually the decisive ones. Sometimes, she lays a hand on her husband's arm or makes a murmuring noise. It's a code. It has to be.

After the dinner and talks, there is a small show, to entertain them. It's rounded off by some traditional dancing. King Agdar and Queen Idun agree to try it and a hint of jealousy climbs up Elsa's throat because she hasn't danced – hasn't even had an opportunity – for years. She wonders if she can leave now. Really, if it weren't for the importance of these diplomats, Elsa would not have had to attend at all.

"They dance well, your parents," Princess Anita says. Elsa didn't even hear her come up but she does not flinch. Slowly, she crosses her arms. Conceal, don't feel. Don't let them know.

"Yes."

The Princess cocks her head curiously. "You don't want to try?"

"I don't have a partner," she says because no other answer seems acceptable. When Princess Anita opens her mouth, Elsa adds, "Please, cousin, don't feel obliged to offer. I should hate to take you away from Prince Bernardo."

Something in her face must convince Princess Anita. They watch quietly. Her father is in front, one arm behind the queen's back. He hates dancing, Elsa remembers. Her mother follows his lead but Prince Bernardo shakes his head and tells them that when they step, their top halves should not move. The king laughs good-naturedly.

"They would make good dancers, in our country," Princess Anita says. "They complement each other well. They are also more traditional than Bernardo and myself." When Elsa turns to her, she explains, "Your father leads and your mother follows. Bernardo and I dance the other way around but, of course, as it is in many dances, the man traditionally leads."

She had noticed that. She had assumed there was no difference between the positions at first because the music and steps were so fast that it seemed likely that they picked randomly. But now that the music has slowed down, she can see the obvious differences.

"You are very quiet, cousin."

She always finds calling other members of royalty 'cousin' strange because they aren't related. Princess Anita didn't start the evening off calling her that. She must have picked it up from the Arendelle royalty.

"It's nice to see them dance. They work too hard," she says honestly. Perhaps with another royal dignitary, she would not suggest that her parents have any fault but Princess Anita doesn't strike her as the kind to take advantage of a weakness.

"But they are good rulers. My father, the king, once said that you can tell much from a person by watching how he or she dances and moves. In your parents, I see dedication, honesty and trust. Hard work. And something … sad." She looks thoughtful. "Forgive me for prying, cousin, have you suffered a tragedy lately?"

Elsa glances at her crossed hands. "No. The worst thing that's happened recently is my younger sister, Princess Anna, breaking her arm. But she does that sort of thing often."

Princess Anita laughs. "Perhaps it is nothing then. Now, you … I would be interested to see how you dance."

She makes herself smile because that seems like an appropriate response. "I'm afraid the dance is too fast for me, cousin. If you learn by watching us dance then I fear my feet would accidentally cause a war."

"I think you would be a good dancer."

"I would need a partner," she says again.

"For our style of dancing, yes. But not all dances need partners. No, I think you would be a great dancer if you get rid of your … jitterbug?"

"I don't know that term, cousin."

"We use it sometimes, to describe someone nervous or anxious. Or full of energy." As Elsa looks at her, wondering whether she should be insulted, Anita says, "I don't mean _you_ are nervous or anxious, cousin. But I feel, if you were to dance, you would display the jitterbug. Maybe a dance partner would help that. But I think your style … I think you would dance well with a partner but just as well on your own."

After the evening, and long into the night, Elsa thinks about this conversation. It is the first time she's ever thought about how her parents run their country but she knows now that it is through teamwork. One leads, the other follows, but both are necessary.

She's thought about it before, of course. She is of betrothal age and she knows her parents have considered the possibility. Nothing has materialised and she doesn't know whether to feel glad or not. She shouldn't feel at all, she supposes, and that's one thing she worries about – that she will meet potential suitors and feel no desire for them. A marriage of convenience, tempered only by…

Frost coats her arms, seductively comfortable, before moving around the side of her bed. No partners. That's not an option. Even nights like tonight will be a rarity, and she shall have to invite Anna to do the dancing. If Anna still wants to know her by then.

But how is she supposed to rule? She wants to believe Princess Anita, that a partner is unnecessary, but it would certainly be easier. More than that, it would be expected. There are almost no monarchs without a consort. Even then, they have people to trust. People to fall back on.

There's no option. She will have to learn to govern without the need for a partner. Work twice as hard. Much like the solitary dances she learnt as a child, where you had to put in more effort to ensure there was no mistake because there would be no one there to catch you if you fell.

As for the jitterbug, that was clearly her demeanour. Remember: conceal, don't feel. She'd let too much of that slide. She always had had a weakness for warm people.

She closes her eyes, feeling the frost land lightly upon her back and legs. No partners then. Just lots of hard work, with no one to talk to. For the good of Arendelle. She will do it. She has to do it.

She falls asleep, hanging onto this idea with grim determination; and dreams of colourful dancers, one leading, the other following, stepping in quick, cheerful rhythm.

**V. Ballet**

_There are many sad sights in the world, Elsa_.

She glides through corridors and rooms, turning corners with precision.

_But I'll tell you now, the saddest thing to watch is a tragic story told through dance_.

She hears petitions and signs decrees. She speaks to her advisers, careful to remain still, Tryng to make it _mean_ something.

_You'll have to see it for yourself. Maybe for your ninth birthday, we'll take you. You'd like that, wouldn't you? A chance to see stories through dance._

In the moments between, she passes Anna in the halls. Once tall and proud, Anna looks almost stooped. There is no light in her eyes. Her face is all angles and lines.

_It will make you cry. That's not always a bad thing._

Family dinners are no more. The knock on her door was a one-time thing. She has a crown to prepare for and it is only at night that she can release her poise. But no more because even now, she must conceal, not feel.

_It can be therapeutic._

Anna understands that Elsa is a ruler. It is the only thing Anna has been allowed to understand, and she throws herself at that understanding with wild abandon, somewhere between tears and duty. Anna understands that even if the preceding years had never happened, Elsa would have to be distant. And so Anna grieves alone and that haunts Elsa's dreams as much as the thought of a ship creaking underwater does.

_You'll understand when we take you._

And late one night – the night that would have been King Agdar's forty-first birthday – Elsa sees Anna alone at that dining room table, holding a glass in one hand and a bottle nearby. They lock eyes as Anna raises the glass in a silent toast to the dead. She holds it out to Elsa.

_It's about the way they move. As though it's destined. It's beautiful but you know that the worst is yet to come._

Elsa knows the next steps. Walk forward. Take the toast. Sit with her sister (not hold – never hold, now) and let her cry. Promise to be there for her. Become mother and father, on her own because she has no partner, and shoulder the burdens placed on Anna's shoulders. Be a sister again.

_You want to stop it. You would do _anything_ to stop it._

But she can't.

_That moment in time when they pause in those awkward positions. It's only for a second, you know, but it feels longer. _

She turns and walks away. Nothing – no sobbing, no shouting, no _please come back_ – follows her.

_It's beautiful, it's tragic and it's the saddest sight in the world_.

She used to believe her mother, that a tragic story told through dance would be the saddest sight she would ever see. But now she knows better.

_Because it's more than the dance, Elsa. It's the meaning and the moves and what got them there_.

The saddest sight in the world, she thinks, is a story that finished long before its ending.

**VI. Samba**

It's difficult at first. She wants to grieve but there is so little time. She is the princess. More than that, she is the de facto ruler, subject only to the Regent and the council. She has a kingdom to run.

She makes mistakes. Not dramatic mistakes but stumbles. Everything moves so quickly and she can barely keep up. It feels as though she's in a dance with the professionals with quick steps and movements too fast to follow.

But then she spots the patterns. She breaks it down and soon every day is doable. Not as easy as breathing perhaps but she is on top of it and if she could feel, she thinks she would even feel exhilarated.

Time ticks on and the loss of her parents is a dull ache rather than a sharp pain. The Regent steps in less often while she discusses policy with him. She has perfected ruling without being truly seen – she has meetings but the gates have not opened to visitors since before her parents died. Her powers are under control as long as she doesn't touch anything. And when they aren't, well, the servants are under strict orders not to enter her room.

(Anna makes her own way through the years and although Elsa tries to keep an eye on her, that's one move too many: she has to balance everything and the country has to come first. Anna will be fine. Anna is strong. Anna is used to being second best and Elsa is used to being the villain.)

And one day, with a jolt, she realises that she is nearly twenty-one and nearly queen. No more Regent. Less of the ministers and councils. Just Queen Elsa, the reclusive ruler of Arendelle.

With a coronation.

And a party.

And people.

The thought scares her so much that her bed cover becomes a sheet of ice and she leaves it by the fire to dry. She remembers her father, four years ago, explaining that sometimes, you have to do people the courtesy of meeting. She can't very well be crowned in secret and hope no one minds. That's not how it's done.

She incorporates planning the coronation into her daily work until it is as smooth as the rest of her role. Yet unlike everything else, none of it gives her pleasure. Something is going to happen. She's going to have to hold something. She's going to have to _dance _with men hoping to marry her for power or even just to be polite.

No, she can avoid that. No one makes monarchs dance. She'll pretend she's twisted an ankle. She'll claim an inability to dance. She'll send Anna. Anna loves to dance. Anna will love the party.

That calms her, slightly. It will be Anna's party. It might be _about_ Elsa but she can ensure it's the best night of Anna's life since their parents' death. Anna deserves it.

With that viewpoint, she completes the administration quicker than she otherwise would have done, trying to aim as many suggestions as possible at things Anna would like. She's not looking forward to it – so many people – but it's better, this way. Finding herself at a loose end, she decides to watch the proposed entertainment auditions. There is a committee in charge of planning but she can still give some input. She goes to the monarch's private viewing gallery.

On the floor are a troupe of dancers wearing skimpy but very colourful clothing. They dance to fast-paced music, reliant heavy on drum beats, their hips moving in perfect time. At first, it's difficult to catch their movements because it's so fast but then she realises, it's just patterns. They bounce on their heels, twisting at each bounce while their arms move in a separate pattern.

"What do you think? They're good."

Ice creeps onto the wall and she turns so that she can block it. Her heartbeat slows to a more normal beat when she realises that the voice is coming from the next room along – the connecting door, she realises, is open. Another viewing gallery. Curious despite herself, she slinks to the doorway.

Her old music tutor nods, facing someone with the stance of her old dance tutor. They are both members of the planning committee, she knows, but she has not spoken to either since her lessons were stopped years ago. She wonders what they think of that.

"An interesting style," he says. The rhythm changes and she twists so that she can watch. Most of the group moves to the side, leaving one woman in the middle. She watches the solo dancer, although her body aches from the awkward twisted position she is now in. "Where are they from, do we know?"

The dance tutor names a country even further south of Princess Anita's. "Travelling performers. I don't think even they think they'll be taken on but they thought they would try their luck. A good dance but a coronation needs … perhaps a more subtle and traditional taste."

Anna has always loved traditional stories, with ballroom dancing and Arendelle's music. She would enjoy this but she would much prefer a grand night of dancing with beautiful dresses and traditional music, just as her dreams. A pity because having seen these dancers, Elsa doesn't want traditional. She wants drum beats and quick steps.

"I agree," says the music tutor, "but I do like this style. Interesting that the same style can be used in a group and a solo performance."

"Not the same. It changes when they have partners – did you see in the earlier dance?"

"Yes, of course, you're right." A moment of silence and then the music tutor says, "I wonder what her Highness will think."

"Of the dancing?"

"Of the party. When her parents sent her to me, she was so meek and polite but there was something else to her, you know. Something that longed for wild moves and sounds."

The dance tutor chuckles. "You didn't know her before the gates closed. She was a wonderful solo dancer but she preferred her sister's version. God knows what _that_ was but it suited her. But when the gates closed, they said only her sister was to take lessons. A shame. I wonder what she could have done had she continued."

"I wonder," the music tutor says. "Of course, I only knew her briefly after the gates shut but I always thought that she would have been a wonderful musician _if_ only she could accept whatever it was that caused her jitterbug."

Memory tugs at her. She frowns as she tries to place it.

"A jitterbug?"

"It's a term I heard a long time ago. Twice. One group said it means something out of control – from alcohol, you know – and the other group said it means someone nervous or anxious. You see, the people talk about how cold our princess is, how calm and how reserved she is. But you and I know better. She has a spark to her. It's just buried – or it was when she was eight. And you know what people say now."

The two men are silent as Elsa frowns again. Princess Anita. That's where she's heard the term before. And what did the princess say?

As she turns away from the dancer, her foot knocks against the balcony. She holds still, in case they have heard her and question why she is there, even though _she_ is the crown princess and this is _her_ viewing gallery.

The dance tutor says, "It's a pity she gave up dancing. I'm sure this is something she would have enjoyed."

"Even alone?"

He looks towards the dancer. "That is true. It can be danced alone but I think it is really a dance for groups. Both are possible but the warmth and the fun comes from dancing with other people."

She turns to watch and her heart clenches. It's true. The solo dancer is good, and there's a fun vibe to her, but it's not a party and festival vibe. A style like this, she thinks, is about party and festival.

"There aren't many dances that are intended to be danced alone, are there?" the music tutor says thoughtfully and she actually shivers because it's as though he's reading her mind.

"Not as such." She turns back in time to see the dance tutor's shoulders shrug. "They're always works of art but dancing is a product of the human desire to be with other people. But even a solo dancer isn't truly alone, you know. After all, what is a dance without music?" A beat while the music tutor chuckles. "Anyway, we should head downstairs."

She releases a breath and walks to the balcony again to peer over it. The dancing has finished. As she watches, the final dancer joins her troupe, who slap her hands and hug her. They are smiling and it's at the thought of a dance gone well rather than the thought that they will be hired.

"I thought I heard someone out here. So, how much of that did you hear, your Highness?" the music tutor says, crossing into her gallery, and the nearly-melted ice patch is accidentally replicated.

"I'm sorry," she says, crossing her arms as she covers the ice patch. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop." She looks at the old man, and remembers her first lesson with him. She feels a part of her melt.

The man smiles. "I just wondered, Princess, what you thought of the dancers?"

She remembers the party vibe and the drum beats and then remembers Anna and tradition. "They were good but I agree with your assessment. Let us stick with something more traditional." She pauses. "Both I and Princess Anna will enjoy the traditional dancing. She always loved to dance with other people."

Her old tutor nods. "I'm glad you agree, your Highness. I should head down as well." But as she walks past, he says, "You know, he's right. You were quite the talented solo dancer but you were always happiest when you performed with your sister." As she looks at him, he smiles. "Just something to think about, Elsa."

**VII. Elsa (waltz, slow)**

They stand together at the front of the ballroom, to watch the dancers and the talkers. The room is light and full of people. There is good food everywhere. Apart from that slip with the relics, she has kept control. And it will be over soon. She can do this.

Anna stands next to her, nervous but with eyes shining. She wonders if Anna continued her dance lessons. It seems to her that what Anna would love, more than anything, is a dance. A slow dance, with box steps, holding a partner close.

As the applause dies down, she sees her sister glance at her and look away, brushing that horrible lock of platinum-blonde behind her ear.

What Anna would like, more than a dance, is love.

This is Anna's party.

"Hi," Elsa says and that stiffness in her voice doesn't come out.

Anna stiffens slightly as she turns. "Hi, hi me?" Elsa nods. Her face is smiling because it's Anna's party and Anna has every right to feel like this. "_Oh_. Um, hi."

Anna looks away again at the same time that Elsa does. It's too awkward. Elsa spent years listening to Anna, but Anna spent years getting to know a door.

She remembers learning to dance. The first time you moved, you were self-conscious, sure that everything was a mistake and that everyone stared at you. You couldn't give up at the first slip.

"You look beautiful." She hasn't said that for years – maybe ever? But it's true. Of course, Anna could have shown up in a nightgown and Elsa would still have thought her the most beautiful lady in the room.

Anna smiles. "Thank you. You look beautifuller." Realisation hits. "I mean, not fuller, you don't look _fuller_, but more, more beautiful."

Elsa chuckles. "Thank you."

It's easy. This is easy. This is finding her footing. This is for Anna and it's not a dance, in three beats and beautiful positioning, but it's … it's something.

"So," she says as Anna glances away self-consciously but it's OK because Anna was always more uncertain of the steps than she was, "this is what a party looks like."

"It's warmer than I thought."

A wonderful aroma hits her. "What is that amazing _smell_?" she says before she can stop herself. She closes her eyes and sniffs, bringing her head around. "_Chocolate_," she says as she opens her eyes, only to realise that Anna is doing and saying the exact same thing. They giggle.

And just like that the ice is broken. Anna turns away and opens her mouth to say something.

"Your Majesty." Kai's voice breaks into her thoughts and although she continues to smile as she looks at him, part of her thinks, _not now_. Because this is Anna's party and this is Anna's time. "The Duke of Weaseltown."

The skinny, little man snaps at him, "_Weselton_," before turning his attention to Elsa and saying, "The Duke of Weselton, your Majesty." He straightens. "As your closest partner in trade, it seems only fitting that I offer you your first dance as queen."

He suddenly jumps around before bowing deeply. The hair on his head – not hair, but a toupee – flops forward and she starts to giggle. Beside her, Anna giggles as well.

It's perfect.

Except it isn't.

Because she can't do this dance with him or with anyone. She can't touch them.

And she knows that this will happen all night. This is Anna's party but Elsa can't spend it with her.

She coughs into her glove and the Duke straightens. "Thank you," she says, "only I don't dance." The Duke makes an offended sound and inspiration – wicked, terrible, sisterly-prank inspiration – hits her. "But my sister does."

Anna laughs it off but the Duke grabs her. She hears a small _what_ as the Duke whisks her away, and another protestation. But Anna looks back and there's laughter in her eyes and mouth.

"Sorry," Elsa laughs. She waves as Anna disappears.

This is doable. This is a rhythm. Though she doesn't dance – isn't that what she said to the Duke? She is precision and elegance without life; learning without feeling; a destroyer of faith; a jitterbug. She has not danced for years.

And yet, she could dance. Once.

Isn't the best thing about being a queen that she can dance whenever she wants?

Anna dips and twirls, trying to avoid the Duke's feet, occasionally shooting Elsa looks of promised revenge and good humour.

It's not perfect, this one night. It's full of missteps and false starts; missed beats and snowbats rather than dying swans; but it's the best Elsa can do. Her broken, jitterbug best.

This is Anna's party.

Anna returns, rubbing her head and laughing. Elsa feels that bittersweet mix of joy that she is here and with her sister; and sorrow that she didn't get it right, that this will end and even if it's right, it's wrong.

No, it's not perfect at all. But then, it wouldn't be.

After all, it might be Anna's party but, deep down, they both know that this is Elsa's dance.

_**Fin**_


End file.
